


The Fading Light

by Nice_Valkyrie



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Ishval Civil War, M/M, Role Reversal, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 03:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14416701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nice_Valkyrie/pseuds/Nice_Valkyrie
Summary: Roy doesn’t even understand himself, let alone what goes on in Kimblee’s head.





	The Fading Light

After dinner, Kimblee got to his feet and tapped his cigarette case against Roy’s arm. Roy swallowed what he’d been chewing, his throat already dry, and pushed his plate away.

Kimblee took a winding path away from camp, his boots kicking up little puff of dust as they strolled through the half-destroyed streets. Roy walked beside him, maybe half a step behind. He had an idea of where Kimblee was leading him, but didn’t want to draw his ire by being presumptuous.

But sure enough, a few minutes later they arrived at the same cleared neighborhood where Kimblee had gotten him alone the first time. They didn’t always come here, but the association was strong all the same—Roy could still remember how flustered he’d been after that first kiss, and even now the thought made his face hotter.

This building was still mostly standing, the second floor both intact and accessible. Kimblee hadn’t handled this one. He led Roy up, then strolled to the window on the far side of the room and peered out of it. Roy rested his forearms on the sill and leaned out beside him. The sun was just beginning to set, and the clouds were shot through with pink.

“Here.”

Roy took the proffered cigarette and lit it for him. Then, figuring he might as well occupy himself while Kimblee smoked, he pulled out one of his own. For a few minutes there was silence as they watched the clouds drift across the sky on the evening wind.

“Beautiful,” said Kimblee. “This was a good day.”

Roy was silent. He knew by now that this was what passed for seduction with Kimblee, and that it was safer to refrain from responding. The last time he had attempted to banter back, and Kimblee had scoffed and then fucked him mercilessly.

“Look at that,” Kimblee insisted, gesturing. “On the horizon. You can still see the smoke rising.”

Roy kept his gaze fixed on the sky. “That’s probably just your cigarette.”

Kimblee chuckled. “Every time I try to turn your attention to something beautiful, you refuse to look. It’s like you want to mope.”

“That’s not true,” said Roy, and he stifled a cough.

“Then why not let me cheer you up?”

“Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

Kimblee blinked and tilted his head thoughtfully. “Is that why you’re here?”

Roy didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. He focused on the acrid scent of the cigarette, the way the smoke burned as it filled his lungs. He always smelled like smoke now, even fresh out of the showers. At least inhaling it hurt and made him feel good at the same time.

“So you don’t take pleasure in any of this?” Kimblee said eventually.

They were getting closer to it now, finally. “Not really.”

Kimblee frowned as he inhaled. “How do you stand being like that?”

“Stop it, Kimblee.”

“I’m trying to understand you.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

Kimblee dropped what remained of his cigarette and crushed it under his boot. Then he backed Roy against the windowsill, splaying his hands on either side of him. He was close enough that Roy could see the dark circles under his eyes and the faint stubble on his chin. “Finish your cigarette,” he said.

Roy’s heart was thumping. He inhaled, then turned his head to the side, and as he blew out the smoke Kimblee leaned in and began kissing his neck. Roy closed his eyes and took another drag, and this time with the slow, wet kisses there were Kimblee’s hips pressing against his own and the edge of the windowsill digging into his back. Roy’s blood rushed downward in pulses, and he could feel Kimblee’s cock twitch and harden too.

Kimblee took the cigarette from Roy’s fingers and stubbed it out against the wall. Then he seized Roy’s hair and started kissing him properly, his mouth bitter like ash and coffee. His kisses always tasted like that, and were always too toothy, and Roy was already relaxing into their familiarity. Sometimes it was as though he counted the weeks here not by days or missions but by the encounters he’d had with Kimblee. He let his hands hang at his sides as Kimblee began undressing him.

“Why do you still wear these?” Kimblee said, tugging open the buttons on Roy’s dress shirt.

“They’re…more formal.”

“It’s hot out here. And with the undershirt, too…” Kimblee tapped Roy’s chest. “Hm. You can leave that on.”

Roy didn’t question him. He never did.

Kimblee opened Roy’s pants and sank to his knees. That was nice, if unexpected; this would make, what, only the third or fourth time Kimblee had—?

“Relax,” Kimblee murmured. He licked a line down from Roy’s hip that tickled more than aroused, joining the other confused flutters in Roy’s stomach. It was never pure lust with him—pure need, maybe, but nothing was simple for Roy anymore. But the confusion wasn’t stopping him from getting hard under caress of Kimblee’s tongue. 

Kimblee was good at this. He licked Roy’s cock all over, then took the whole thing into his mouth until it made him gag. Roy swallowed a groan—it wouldn’t do to distract him—and tried to will himself to enjoy such a gentle touch while it lasted.

As he worked the shaft with one hand, Kimblee reached into one of his pockets. He retrieved a little tin of lubricant—stamped with the insignia of their medical supplies, almost certainly stolen—and scooped some out with his fingers. Roy inched his legs further apart, taking a deep breath—

But Kimblee shoved his own pants to his knees, rocked back on his heels, and murmured, “Let’s do something a little different this time.”

He reached down behind himself, and a moment later moaned around Roy’s cock. A jolt like fire slid down Roy’s spine when Kimblee looked up at him. He fingered himself differently, Roy noticed—more roughly, the muscles in his shoulder working faster—and the distraction made him sloppier.  

“Come here,” said Kimblee, pulling away.

Kimblee stripped entirely, even his socks, and spread his uniform out on the ground. Roy spared a second to wonder about the disrespect of fucking on top of it, and if that was also running through Kimblee’s mind, but then Kimblee hooked one foot around Roy’s ankle and beckoned him over.

The floor was too hard and unyielding for this position to be truly easy, their bodies not quite lining up effortlessly, and Kimblee noticed Roy’s hesitation. “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before.”

“I’m not nervous about this,” Roy scoffed. “It’s just—you.”

He wished immediately that he hadn’t said something so personal; Kimblee squirreled such things away to tease about later in his cold, too-biting fashion.

But Kimblee only smirked, and stroked himself slowly, and said, “Do you want me or not?”

Roy guided himself forward, his other hand on Kimblee’s thigh to brace himself. The nerves hadn’t made him any less hard, thankfully, but he still held his breath as he pushed—and then, after a bit more pressure, slipped in.

An odd expression crossed Kimblee’s face. Roy held himself still. “All right?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Kimblee muttered.

“You’re disappointed?”

Kimblee rolled his hips, taking Roy in a little deeper. “It’s better when it hurts. Don’t you think?”

Roy was having trouble thinking at all. “I—?”

“That’s what you’ve told me before.” Kimblee switched the hand stroking his cock and took a handful of Roy’s undershirt, pulling him down close enough to kiss—but he didn’t, he never did during sex.

“You say you love it when it hurts,” he whispered. “You always ask for more.” Then his eyes lit up with a glee that made Roy’s stomach drop. “Would you like to know what you look like underneath me?”

His features slid into something halfway between pain and pleasure, his eyes filled with lust. Roy couldn’t tell if he was more fascinated or disgusted that he recognized the expression as his own.

“Don’t stop,” Kimblee moaned. “It feels good. Fuck, it’s so good.”

A shiver raced all the way down from Roy’s scalp. How many times had he uttered some variation of those words? But Kimblee had never said anything like that to him.

“Say it again,” he croaked.

Kimblee’s eyes narrowed, and he licked his lips. In a voice that wasn’t quite his own **,** he said, “Fuck me, and don’t stop.”

There was sweat trickling down Roy’s neck as he moved, sweat sheened over Kimblee’s chest. Kimblee was feverishly hot around Roy’s cock and there was a heat in his belly, too, like a fire creeping dangerously close. Usually, on days like this, Roy begged Kimblee to be rough, and focused on the pain to forget. But it didn’t hurt this way. It didn’t hurt at all.

Roy leaned down. “If you’re me—”

He went for the flesh just above the collarbone, Kimblee’s favorite place to gnaw. Kimblee made a sound, not the angry noise Roy was used to that was a demand to continue, but a shocked whimper. Roy rolled the skin between his teeth, and if this was how he responded when Kimblee did this to him, tensing beautifully and arching up against him, Roy could understand the appeal.

“Harder,” Kimblee whimpered as Roy pulled away. “More. Please—”

The sunset painted Kimblee’s body in pink and orange, the light making his eye flash gold. He hadn’t been eating enough, and it showed: the lean muscle in his arms were sharply defined and his ribcage jutted up in twin curves from the hollow of his stomach. But in the light of the sunset he almost looked inhumanely beautiful. Roy felt untethered, like the rubble around them had crumbled to dust and blown away in the desert wind. The sense of power, of ownership, that he could make Kimblee writhe under him, make him feel whatever he wanted—

He knocked Kimblee’s hand away from his cock. “Don’t touch yourself.”

Kimblee gritted his teeth. “Is that an order?”

“Of course it is.”

Kimblee groaned in frustration, but he crossed his arms over his head.

“Good boy.” The words came easily, as though Roy had always been the one who said them, instead of their intended recipient. “You’re a natural at this, aren’t you? Following orders.”

He ran his hands over Kimblee’s chest and was struck by the urge to leave deep scratches. He forced himself to reach down and wrap a hand around Kimblee’s cock instead, jerking just a little too roughly. “You want me to bite you again? Would that make you feel better?”

Kimblee’s eyes were bright and wide, but he only moaned wordlessly, and Roy fucked him overcome by a great sweeping loneliness like they were the last two people in Ishval. He grabbed Kimblee’s shoulder—hard, too hard.

“What’s wrong with you?” he said, giving him a little shake. “Huh? What the hell is wrong with you that you want this to hurt?”

Kimblee seized Roy’s undershirt again and yanked him down. “You look good like this, Major,” he hissed, dropping back into his own voice. “It suits you.”

Then he threw his head back, choked out, “ _Fuck_ ,” and came with his eyes closed and his mouth twisted in a horrible grin.

Roy let go of him, but before he could get his balance to find his own release Kimblee kissed him, gasping and messy and fierce. His hand was in Roy’s hair again, and he was so tight, his whole body shaking like he was sobbing, and Roy cried out as he came, trembling like he was weeping too.

Too soon he became aware of how sticky he felt, and how blue the light had become. The sun must have just dipped below the horizon. Underneath him, Kimblee shifted to one side and rifled through his jacket until he found his cigarettes, keeping one arm slung around Roy so he couldn’t pull away.

“Feeling a little better?” he mumbled, lighting the cigarette in his mouth.

“Let me up,” said Roy. “I don’t want to get caught.”

Kimblee snorted. “Better that they walk in on us like this, isn’t it? It makes it look like something _you’re_ doing to _me_.” But he let Roy go anyway.

Roy looked over his shoulder as he pulled his pants back on. Kimblee was still lying on the ground, one hand behind his head, looking for all the world like a lazy cat. “Did you plan for that to happen?”

“I’m not some mastermind,” said Kimblee. “I wouldn’t dream of orchestrating something like that ahead of time.”

Roy squinted back out the window. It already looked gloomier; soon the empty buildings would begin to darken to hulking shadows. “I don’t think you understand me very well.”

“I don’t think you understand me at all.” Kimblee took another drag of his cigarette and said, “Hm. I think I prefer being myself, anyway. Don’t you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Also check out:
> 
> [Tinderbox](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900) by rabbitprint (gen Roy and Kimblee - Roy POV, 2nd-person)  
> [Your Still Remains](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398504) by ken_ichijouji (dommific) (Roy/Frank Archer, interesting bedroom role-reversal exploration - Roy POV, 1st-person)  
> [The Holy and the Divine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514) by Laylah
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
